


What is seen cannot be Unseen

by orphan_account



Series: Tease it [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiddleford was aware of his vocal tendencies when aroused and planned accordingly. Too bad Stanley and Stanford got back from the lake early.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What is seen cannot be Unseen

Fiddleford should’ve felt guilty for hurrying Stanley and Stanford out the door as fast as he did, and he did- feel guilty that was - but it had been so long since Fiddleford could let go and this constant anomaly hunting had been stressing him out more and more. He needed to release the tension one way or another or else risk an explosion. Fiddleford felt a blush creep up his face at the thought of just letting go in front of them, dropping his pants mid-day and-

Fiddleford immediately backtracked, flailed, and let that thought stop in it’s precarious motion. Later, he promised himself, when the twins were doing their weekly brotherly bonding and they were far enough away from the shack that Fiddleford’s loud cries of pleasure couldn’t reach them. As it was Fiddleford was already in his bedroom, hearing the sound of the Stanley Mobile’s door closing, the engine revving up. He could see the Stan twins from outside his window, fishing nets poking out of the back window. They had offered to let him join, as they always did during their brotherly bonding sessions but it had been so long since he’s had the house to himself, he rejected them under the pretense of taking a lazy day off and, technically, it wasn’t false.

* * *

 

Fiddleford waited until the smoke left behind by the Stanley Mobile settle before finally reaching his hand down to cup his already half-hard erection. He felt his cheeks heat up.  To be so horny at this age was just plain nonsense. Still, it had been a long time since he’s had alone time, living and working with two other people didn’t allow him much privacy, couple that with Fiddleford’s own self-awareness of his vocal tendencies when riled up…

But now he had the whole afternoon to himself. Not bothering to close his bedroom door all the way, satisfied in the knowledge that he didn’t have enough stamina to waste the whole afternoon in his own self-pleasure, Fiddleford went straight to his mattress and lifted it enough to grab the lube container and set it near the bed.

Almost methodically Fiddleford started stripping, doing well to caress his body as he did so. He wanted to savor this. He started with his glasses, placing them on the nightstand and moved down to the flimsy t-shirt he decided on wearing this morning, knowing full well that it would just be discarded as soon as the twins left. As he caressed his own nipples and hugged his own flank a part of him was just urging him to get to the good part. To just unzip his pants, stick his hand down and let go.

But still, he had all afternoon, there was no need to rush.

By the time he was naked his cock was fully flushed but still he didn’t touch it. Instead he twisted to grab the lube from the nightstand and proceeded to coat two of his fingers in the stuff. It had been a long time since he fingered himself but even as he thought that, the two fingers entered smoothly and soon Fiddleford was slowly jacking himself off.

Yet even as Fiddleford was hard and producing a little pre-cum, he found the pleasure too low, the pressure not building but stagnant. Fiddleford let out a groan and would’ve laid his arm across his forehead if both arms weren’t so busy trying to give him release.

The solution would’ve been easy: make up a fantasy and jerk off to it. Main problem: more and more lately most of his fantasies have evolved to include his two housemates who were very much his friends and very much male and that was...a problem. Not so much the male part but mostly the fact that they were friends and one of them was boss and the other was his boss’ twin.

And really he tried to hold onto the guilt in the hopes that it would cease his fantasies but it wasn’t long until his head was tipped back on his pillow and the name “Stan” was on his lips as he worked himself to completion. The hand around his cock wasn’t his own but Stanley’s, his sinful voice teasing Fiddleford for being so easy to please. The fingers working his ass became Stanford’s, long and thick and clever and they were both happy to please him.  No one twin outshone the other in his fantasies, not for long anyway, and as Fiddleford increasingly started to call out the name “Stan” he was thinking of no twin in particular and yet both at the same time.

\--------------------------

“How was I supposed to know their was a monster island in the lake?” Stanford asked.

“Uh, cause your job is literally to catalogue every supernatural being in this weird ass town.”

“Yes, well, I would have catalogued this one if you didn’t crash the boat-”

“If I didn’t crash the boat we would’ve been island food!”

Both Stanley and Stanford glared at each other from across the pitiful remnants of the Stan O War that was hooked up to the back of the Stanley Mobile.

Stanford was the first one to break eye contact. “Well so much for fishing at the lake.” He murmured before a loud shout broke the early morning weekend.

“Stan!” A voice that suspiciously sounded like Fiddleford wailed.

“Fiddleford!” Stanley shouted in response as he and his brother ran to the house.

“Stan!” Fiddleford’s voice cried out again. It was clear it was coming from upstairs.

“Wait.” Stanford whispered at the door to the house. He held out a hand to stop his brother from moving forward. “We have to be stealthy; we don’t know what’s up there with Fiddleford.”

Loud echoing groans and rattling pants reached their ears and Stanley’s form tensed. “He sounds like he’s dying.”

Quietly Stanford took the bat from the nearby umbrella rack near the door and handed it to Stanley, then he proceeded to take an actual umbrella and equip himself with it. Glancing at each other both brothers nodded and proceeded to creep toward the stairway. Stanley took the stairs first and with every broken cry of “Stan” his heart twisted. How long had Fidds been calling their name? His voice sounded hoarse. Minutes, hours? They were only gone for a bit but it sounded like Fidds had been screaming forever.

His hands tightened on his baseball bat.

By the time they reached the second floor Stanford had taken the lead. Fiddleford’s bedroom door was opened just a crack but not enough to see who was behind this torture. The twins positioned themselves on either side of the door and Stanford silently communicated with his twin. “I’ll creak the door open a little more to see what’s going on and when I gave the signal we barge in.”

Stanford did as he promised and opened the door just the little bit more and then promptly backed away from the door and stood ramrod straight against the wall. There was a moment or two of nothing but gasps and pants from the enlarged gap in the door and then Stanley was asking, “What did you see?”

“We-we should leave.”

“Stan!” A pitiful cry came from in the room.

“I’m going in.” Stanley said, one foot lifting in the process of kicking the door down. His arms were raised with bat in hand.

“St-Stanley don’t.” Stanford hissed, hooking his brother’s uplifted food with the handle of his umbrella just in time. His brother hopped once, twice, three times before he gained his balance and unhooked his foot from the umbrella.

“What’s the big deal Sixer? Fidds is calling for help- he can be in danger or in pain-”

“Oh, he’s definitely not in pain.” Stanford said. His cheeks were red and he couldn’t stare Stanley in the eye.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Stanford moved away from the door and said, “See for yourself.” He watched as his brother’s irritated expression slowly gave away as his eyes widened and a red blush overtook his cheeks that no doubt matched his own.

“Oh...Oh.” Stanley said. Meanwhile Fiddleford must have been getting close because the shouts became closer to shrill screams. A litany of “ohs” and “ahs” and “yes” and “fucks” and occasionally a “Stan” thrown in the mix to top off the very real fact that Fiddleford was masturbating. Loudly.

“We should go.” Stanley said suddenly standing very straight and very mechanically.

“Yes, we should.” And so together Stanley and Stanford started to climb downstairs, not bothering to disguise their footsteps because it was quite obvious that Fiddleford wouldn’t hear them anyway, and went into the kitchen, where still, they could hear Fiddleford’s screams of passion.

“So…” Stanley said.

“So…” Stanford replied.

“Fiddleford masturbates to…us?”

“He only said the name Stan, it could be possible he only masturbates to one of us.”

The cries had finally died down. Stanley and Stanford sat alone in the silence, thinking. While most of the townsfolk made the distincted between Stanley and Stanford by calling Stanley “Stan” and Stanford “Ford” Fiddleford had gone the formal route of calling them by their actual first names and, when they were being idiots, their full names. By crying out the name Stan he could’ve been referring to solely Stanley but seeing as how they were both technically Stan...

A good hour later, a freshly showered Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket popped into a kitchen for a quick snack only to find two solemn twins sitting across from each other.

“You got back quick.” Fiddleford offhandedly commented as he opened the fridge door and pulled out an apple.

“Stanford crashed the boat.” Stanley said, trying hard not to imagine his friend buck naked, one hand around his dick and three fingers up his ass while his legs were spread either side of him. Yeah, not working so well.

“Oh, no.” Fiddleford said and the twins were hard press to hear the concern in their friend’s voice when all they could hear was how rough it sounded, “I hope you two didn’t hurt yourselves.”

Stanford, too preoccupied at staring at the swirling patterns of the kitchen table, didn’t bother to correct Stanley. He only nodded his head meekly and tried not to think of the foreseeable future. Namely monday: Fiddleford and him alone in the basement, working close quarters.

If Fiddleford was put off by their strange responses he didn’t show it. Instead he bit into the apple he had picked up and said, “Well if you fellas need me I’ll be in my room. I still have the whole day off after all.”

And with that Fiddleford walked off, admittedly looking more relaxed than either the twins had seen him in a while and smelling of bathroom soap and watermelon shampoo.

It was silent in the kitchen for a moment and then:

“Was...that a pick up line? I honestly can’t tell. Has he been flirting with us this whole time? Stanley. Stanley, this is important. Has he been flirting with me since college? Stanley, help.”

“Sixer, I can honestly say I have no clue what’s going on.”


End file.
